Going Native: Ethnography of an apocalypse
by Anthro23
Summary: Nora and her friends are stranded at a university when the epidemic begins. While heading North from Atlanta they stumble upon a group trying their best to survive. This story follows partly narrative structure, partly as an anthropological field diary written by Nora as she witnesses the dynamics of the group. Will she always be a participant observer or will she "go native"?


A/N: Being an anthropology student I really can't help but over analyse the social interactions within the group. I really must annoy my friends while watching Walking Dead with comments like "It's so interesting how they have fallen into gender-specific labor rolls" and "They have developed from fighting over a single leader into a council, that's progress". Yeah, I'm an anthropology dork. I figured it would be interesting to see how an anthropologist would look at this group and that lead to the field diary idea. Then, because that would be boring and there would really be little dialogue, I decided I'd whack in some third person narrative as well, just to round things out. When reading the i_talics _it's Nora's field diary and when its plain then its the narrative bits. I'm kind of winging it plot wise so please feel free to review and send some input. I do intend it to eventually have some Daryl/OC romance in there but y'all know what he is like. He takes a while to warm up. Thanks for reading.

I do not own any of the characters that appear in AMC's The Walking Dead. I also don't own the Spartacus quote I used later in the chapter. I got that from IMDB.

Please, give it a chance :)

BTW: Anthropology is the study of people and culture and pretty much anything that makes humans humans. I'll be chucking a few TWD themed philosophical questions in there and if any make you think then feel free to review with some thoughts. Any studies I refer to I'll try and find a source for it so you know I'm not making shit up. Just wait until I sketch up a kinship diagram :P.

Enjoy the anthropology song: watch?v=LHv6rw6wxJY

**Going Native: Ethnography of an apocalypse**

_Day 1_

_I have given up my former study. Somehow I feel that an examination into the social relations of migrants pales in comparison to humans becoming predatory cannibals due to a contact spread disease. It's been all over the news. The mass media has had a field day, stories occupy every web page, television channel, radio station. Clips of people being devoured by others have been spread throughout social media like wildfire. I feel that writing "#apocalypse" at the end of a status update doesn't indicate the gravity of the situation we are in. It is my educated opinion, as an anthropologist, that people are insane. I've confined myself to the building, many of us have. The university, being so highly populated, was overrun quickly and it hasn't been safe to leave the confines of the offices. Even the ground level is filling slowly with infected people. We've discovered they move slowly unless provoked by food, flesh, human or otherwise, and movement and sound are factors as well. Those of us who have bunkered down are beginning to go stir crazy. Cream biscuits and coffee is not a stable diet and some have decided to brave the outside in order to try and get to loved ones and safety. We still have power and water supply but I can only imagine that it wont last long with the disease spreading so quickly. _

_From what I can tell the apparent infection rate is high, very high. For every one person infected they may infect three, possibly four more just in a day. This, I predict, will initially increase as the infected population grows but will then decrease substantially when the living population becomes sparse. Obviously in the highly populated areas this will be more extreme. _

_I have attempted observation and study of these people but they do not behave as humans do. There is no indication of social interaction between them, they don't seem to relate to their former selves in the slightest. They group though, and as I said they are motivated by noise and movement. These are the only patterns I can determine. They have lost what it means to be a person, their will to do anything besides eat, their memories as well I believe. Or at least their ability to act in a way that proves their memories are still intact. It seems they have lost everything but their instinct to feed. It begs the question: are they still human? ( Philosophical debate just waiting to happen guys. What makes us human? Pretty much the biggest question in anthropology.)_

* * *

_Day 2_

_It's been spread by the mass media that these cannibals are dead. That they are reanimated corpses, rising to feast on the living. Needless to say that people of faith have begun to preach that this is the end. That their god, goddess, gods or deity of any kind has sent this plague to cleanse the world. This plague is not picky though. This morning I watched a good man, a friend, be torn apart by these things. I have determined that they are not selective, or working for a higher power, they do not discriminate or show mercy. They are hungry and will stop at nothing to feed. Even severe injury cannot stop them. Some of my colleagues have decided to leave, and some of their families have joined us here. Many haven't made it and the view from the windows is a dismal and bloody sight. _

* * *

_Day 3_

_The connection went out first today, then the power completely. We now have no contact with the world beyond speaking face-to-face. I think we have forgotten how to do that. The emergency broadcasts were informing survivors to congregate at a refugee camp in Atlanta. Even if by some miracle the military can control this disease in such a confined area, which I highly doubt, a place this crowded is not somewhere I want to be. People's panic will overrun them, with such a large population there's no telling the horrors people could construct when forced into an enclosed space. Refugee camps are not ideal, thus, I have decided it is time to leave this city. Fern, my former supervisor, Melvin, my research assistant and I have decided to head North. Melvin has no family to speak of and Fern believes that the ranch she owns just south of the Kentucky border will be safe for us and her two children. Her husband, Markus, has already perished. Thankfully we have discovered that a severe brain injury incapacitates the diseased persons, disallowing them to reanimate. _

_Fear has struck hard in the hearts of those of us staying in the building. For many the loss of loved ones has had a debilitating affect and have even lead some to suicide. The impact from the drop off the seventh floor has been enough to kill a man but has not successfully prevented him from rising again. I've witnessed four such events. With each the resurrection time has varied, ranging between seventeen minutes and just over four hours. The courtyard below the drop was formerly unoccupied by infected persons, allowing for the first man to reanimate without interference. In the cases of the second third and fourth death the bodies were partially devoured by the others. This, however, did not deter the reanimation process. _

_We have children with us now, if you could call them that. Markus brought with him he and Fern's two children, Travis (15) and Keira (17). He sacrificed himself for their sake, both are safe and of sound mind, it appears, despite their grieving. We know we have to move and soon. More people have resorted to rash actions and Kara almost fell victim to sexual assault. Thankfully the assailant was stopped... for good. We can't risk this kind of thing again. Melvin, that genius, had a brilliant idea which we intend to carry out in order to survive out there. It will be tomorrow before we make our escape. _

* * *

Huddled in one of the offices, Fern's in fact, the five plotted an escape from the building. As the power was out the plan was to take the service staircase down to the third basement level to the AAA as the faculty called it, the Archaeological Artefact Archive. As much as it made Fern, Melvin and Nora cringe at the thought of using these priceless and ancient artefacts they group really had no other way of obtaining weapons. "Ready?" Melvin asked them all. He was a young man, no older than twenty but far wiser than his age suggested. At the nod from the group he took off out the office door, the others close behind.

Upon reaching the door to the staircases Fern stopped them. "What if it's full of... them?" with that she moved ahead of Melvin and knocked on the door.

"Mom, what...?" Travis started, confused.

"Wait" the older women replied. "If any are close by they'll hear it." The five waited a minute or two in silence. Listening for any sign of movement on the other side of the door. When they believed it to be clear they hurried through and sped down the stairs as quickly and silently as the echo-y space allowed. "This is it" Fern spoke as the group approached the desired door. Taking the same precaution as before, the five filed in.

At a loss for what to do when faced with row upon row of priceless artefacts, the group stood stationary. Then a large grin split Melvin's dark face, showing his white teeth in stark contrast to his skin. As an archaeology major, Melvin found the archives to be one of his favourite places. So much history. He beamed at the others. "Bronze age?" he asked.

Fern and Nora laughed while the others looked confused. Neither of Fern's children had taken to the humanities or social sciences. "Bronze age." Fern agreed.

Following the young man through the labyrinth of shelving, the group finally came upon the weapons they needed. Many weren't actually ancient but rather fashioned as teaching equipment using the same methods as predicted they would have originally been forged with. This meant that the group, at least the three older members, didn't feel quite so awful destroying them. Melvin began pulling down labelled boxes, scattering them and the fillings on the floor, placing aside the weapons. "Old school." Keira scoffed, lifting a dagger with her thumb and forefinger. Taking it off her, Fern shoved it in Keira's belt with a smirk. "Old's cool." She countered.

"Yeah..." Travis agreed gleefully, picking up the longest, sharpest sword he spotted.

"Hold up, Spartacus." Nora pulled the sword from his grip, replacing it with an ornate axe and sliding a long dagger into his belt to match his sister. Upon selecting their weapons Nora looked over to Melvin, who had found a small shield for Keira to carry and plonked an elaborate helmet on his head.

"And maybe there's no peace in this world, for us or for anyone else, I don't know. But I do know that, as long as we live, we must remain true to ourselves." Melvin quoted from Spartacus, his favourite movie, holding his head high. While it was a silly action, meant to be comical, it dawned on the group how true his word were. They lapsed into silence before Nora cleared her throat.

"Hey, ah... Iron age wouldn't be too bad, either." Melvin nodded at and lead them all through the corridors again.

A/N: Thank you for at least scrolling to the end :)


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